


Mr. Dairy Queen

by KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS)



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Beach Volleyball, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Mentor Jasper, Mentor/Protégé, Metaphors, Steven Universe Future, Steven Universe Future Spoilers, Steven Universe is Pink Diamond, Student Steven, Volleyball, all I want is for them to have a good mentor/student dynamic...plz..., mild ones anyway, pretty much all the Little Homeworld quartzes are in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21865330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCreAMS/pseuds/KrisseyCrystal
Summary: Sometimes Steven gets roped in to playing a few matches with the Homeworld quartzes. It's all good fun, even if the volleys get a little intense and he can't serve consistently to save his life.Then Jasper gets involved.
Comments: 33
Kudos: 159
Collections: Finished111





	Mr. Dairy Queen

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fanart](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/543481) by kketcchuupp. 



> Also inspired by [this art](https://twitter.com/rnn_tweet/status/1203354732984553472) by storyboarder Maya Petersen. Honestly, I love all of the volleyball shenanigans and fanart that have popped up in anticipation of "Volleyball" and what we actually got. The intensity of how the quartzes throw themselves into a sport like vball makes me nostalgic. I remember growing up and admiring the older kids around me who would get together to play super intense matches of volleyball just for the fun of it. And to beat each other up.
> 
> That's all this started out as, anyway. Just a couple drabbles of roughhousing volleyball shenanigans with Steven and the Homeworld quartzes to make myself happy. Then along came Jasper and now here we are, eleven pages later.
> 
> Set sometime after the "Volleyball" ep in SUF. Title comes from an age-old volleyball joke about where you can find your "soft serves."
> 
> Enjoy!

Someone’s grabbing the wide strap of his tank and chucking his body across the makeshift court with enough force that this time, Steven doesn’t need his floating powers to fly. With an aborted, “Whoa!” Steven rights himself and gets his toes in the sand first instead of his face.

“Think fast, Diamond!”

Steven thrusts out his clasped fists without seeing the ball. One brown eye squeezes shut and the other watches with shock as his forearms bump the spike.

Lace sets the ball back at him with a grin. Steven doesn’t think; adrenaline from his initial flight courses through him, strong and exciting and powerful and brainless. He jumps, pushes back his visor with a finger, and goes for the hit.

The ball _smacks_ hard against the wall of Zebra’s palms.

Cherry dives. Sand sprays around her wide form; the volleyball thuds out of her reach. 

The quartzes on the other side of the net go wild. 

“Aw, man…” Two seconds in and already Steven’s bent over his knees, panting. “I was hoping I’d get that one.”

“Zebra’s a damn wall. Still. Not bad after literally getting chucked in here by Biggs.” Cherry laughs as she straightens and dusts herself off. “You got your feet under you quick, Diamond.” 

Steven laughs and wipes his wrist over his brow. He hopes his reaction to that name doesn’t show on his face. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

“Serve!”

Steven darts forward for the pass. Lace tips it over. It is worth the frustration of the lost point to hear Zebra squawk as the ball slips right of her palms.

* * *

Steven spins the volleyball over and over again as he readies his stance. It takes him a second to steady his nerves. He never likes having the serve. Nine out of ten times, it seems his serves either don’t make it over or are wildly overpowered and misaimed. There is rarely an inbetween.

“Serve!” he shouts and doesn’t give himself time to think.

High overhead he tosses the ball. With a giant, careless bat of his arm, the ball soars clear over the other teams’ heads and towards the cliffside. 

“Out!” Pearl calls from the lifeguard chair.

Well, no surprise there.

* * *

Steven’s not quite sure who invited Jasper to this week’s game. Maybe she invited herself. Maybe it was Biggs, who could make friends with a cardboard box. Either way, Jasper stands like an island surrounded by the sea of other courtside quartzes. Like them, it seems she’s waiting for her turn to rotate in. She doesn’t talk to anyone. But the sight of her standing there, silent and stoic with her arms crossed over her broad chest, stuns Steven enough that he doesn’t notice the ball’s in play until he is smacked in the face with it.

He sits up from the sand, dazed and confused. Angel bends over him, asking if he’s all right. 

Jasper’s got the slightest of smiles on her face, no doubt because of his own misfortune. She looks away as soon as she catches him looking at her.

Slowly, Steven grins wide. “Yeah. I think I am.”

* * *

Pearl pauses the game to fix the court line after a perfect spike by Biggs.

Steven stretches and tries not to look at Jasper. Whether by choice or by luck, she hasn’t yet rotated in. He wonders what she’s waiting for; if there _is_ something she’s waiting for.

“You know, whenever I play, I always am reminded just how out of my league I am with these guys.”

Steven looks to the pearl beside him. He adjusts his visor. “What makes you say that?”

The pearl’s eyes gravitate to the ruby on the other side of the court. “Oh, you know. All these quartzes and I’m just a pearl. Maybe if we were Rhodonite, Ruby and I’d stand a chance, but it’s still so hard. And so scary! I’ve never been in a war, but these guys use their tactical training to make split-second decisions at the drop of a hat and win. I’m out of my depth.”

“I haven’t been in a war, either.”

“But you’re a diamond. You can hold your ground against them.”

Steven thinks about being picked up and bodily hurtled into the middle of a game and doesn’t know if that qualifies as ‘holding his ground.’ He shrugs. “And you’ve been part of a space pirating crew. You can’t tell me those missions Lars took you on didn’t give you _some_ experience and expertise you could use on the sand.”

“W-well, I…” 

“Serve!”

Lace is a mean setter, a fact Steven is reminded about whenever he’s on the opposite side of her. With deft grace, she leaps and with a press from her fingertips, places the ball exactly where no one is.

Steven and Rhodonite’s pearl dive to get a faceful of sand. Steven’s visor tumbles free. The ball hits short of his extended fist.

Steven thinks laughter tastes better with sand on his tongue.

* * *

When Jasper finally touches the ball for the first time, it’s as a harmless pass to Lace. Steven had half-expected it to be a spike straight to his face, but it isn’t. He doesn’t know how to read that gesture—or lack of one.

* * *

Steven tosses the ball up and serves. Somehow, it flies beautifully. 

Jasper, scowling, takes two steps to the side to get under it and pass it to Lace. Lace sets it back, and Steven readies himself for the hit that he knows is coming. Zebra plants her feet in the ground at the net. Her long white hair, pulled back into a tail, curves over the round bend of her back.

Jasper snaps her hand too fast. Zebra doesn’t launch herself upwards in time to block.

Steven lunges.

There’s a satisfyingly loud _smack_ that rings in the air when he digs the ball with his forearms. It swings up in a high, peaked arc. The Rhodonite pearl sets it to Zebra. 

There’s a blur of orange, then Jasper is there on the other side of the net, launching herself forward from the back of the court to shove both hands skyward. For one cinematic moment, both striped quartzes perfectly mirror each other as they ascend.

Zebra hits it.

The ball slams against Jasper’s hands just as fast and hard as it slams down into the sand.

Steven makes an aborted half-step in reaction. The opposite side of the court erupts into cheers. Jasper roars and squats low to flex her muscles at them.

This time, the laugh starts as an incredulous snicker high in his throat before it dissolves into something else bewildered and somehow hysterical. Happy. A mutual, disbelieving glance with Pearl makes him laugh harder.

How is this their life?

* * *

“Hey. Diamond.”

A chill darts down Steven’s spine. 

There’s hearing the other quartzes call him that out of some misguided, good-natured nicknaming. And then there’s hearing you’re-not-my-diamond Jasper say it.

Steven turns around. The towel falls around his neck. “Y-yeah?” 

“Your serves suck.”

Tension drains out of Steven immediately. He rolls his eyes. With a flick of his fingers, he spins the cap back on his water bottle and drops it down on to his sandals. “Is that all you came here to tell me?”

“I thought you wanted me to teach you.”

“T—” Steven spins back around. “What? What’s happening.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“You didn’t ask a question.”

“I said—”

“—I heard what you said!” Steven throws a hand out. Is he having an out-of-body experience? It feels like an out-of-body experience. How is this moment real? Jasper, here on the beach with everyone, not hunkered away and isolated in her neck of the woods? Jasper seeking Steven out because she _wants_ to take him up on his offer from two weeks ago? “It’s what you _mean_ that’s concerning.”

“Why?”

“I—” Steven shakes his head. His hand pressed to his brow pushes up his visor. “—never mind. There’s no way you could possibly know more about volleyball than me.”

“I don’t need to know about your dumb sport to know what control looks like.”

“You’re offering to teach me how to control…my serves?”

Jasper groans. Long and loud and frustrated.

A couple other quartzes by the court turn their heads to look. Steven meets eyes with Rhodonite’s ruby and gives a placating smile. Jasper steps in his line of sight. “You’re flying by luck, kid. Whenever you get a serve you like, it’s not because of anything _you_ did. It’s because you got lucky. _Tell_ me you’re not okay with staying like that.”

“Should I not be?”

Jasper scoffs. “I’m not letting you anywhere near _my_ side of the court if you can’t start a volley right. But if _you_ want to become someone your team can’t depend on…”

“Oh.” 

Steven has a strange feeling twisting around in his gut. “We’re not talking about volleyball.”

“Want the lessons or not?”

Control.

Steven shouldn’t be surprised that he doesn’t even blink. He thinks of the strange humming that buzzes over his skin when his gem burns pink and he thinks about built-up rage and power and spider-cracks in glass under his feet, horror in his eyes, and he nods. He nods and he nods and he nods.

“Good.”

* * *

“Oh sh—”

Rhodonite pearl’s dig goes awry. The ball flies straight up from her arms and to the side. Immediately, the pearl recoils and pulls her arms up sharp and hard to her sides. “Ah! I’m so sorry!” 

“It’s okay! I got it!”

Steven definitely does _not_ have it. 

He tries his best, though. He pushes himself as fast as he can go. The courtside crowd parts with shouts and alarmed cries as he nearly runs into them—but even then, the ball is beyond his reach. There is no weird time stopping-starting-strangeness to help him as there had been with Smoky. The sand is thick, heavy. It ladens his every step.

Had he been _trying_ to use the same power as Smoky?

Steven picks up the ball.

There’s a moment when, as he walks onto the court, he catches eyes with Jasper. Jasper, who looks too knowing and too smug for having spiked the ball as cruelly as she did two seconds ago. He can read the _See?_ in her face and frowns.

He chucks the ball over the net and shakes out his hand. Thankfully, the glowing pink that crawled over his fingers dissolves away just as fast as it appeared.

* * *

Steven thinks Zebra and Jasper shouldn’t be allowed to be on the same side of the court. 

Ever.

* * *

Biggs dives and curls her arm at just the right angle to pop up the ball. For a volley that Steven had considered lost, the save is surprising as much as it is exhilarating. Hope bursts alive again in his chest: bright. Quick. 

“Comin’ at ya, Diamond!” Biggs’ footfalls spray up sand like she’s wading through water. She marches to the net. “Set me! Set me!”

Steven’s already got his hands up. He stands close to the court center. “You got this, Biggs!”

He gives her a nice and high ball. Biggs steps once, then twice. She digs both feet into the sand. When she jumps, her back arcs. Her arm pulls back, ready to snap down for a killer spike.

Steven has just enough time to recognize the orange and white walls on the other side of the net. Both of them.

“Biggs!”

It happens too fast: the slam of the ball against Bigg’s palm that is followed in rapid succession by two more fierce _slams._ Like lightning, the ball snaps back to their side and Steven doesn’t think. He just throws his arms out and hopes.

The fourth _slam_ against his skin is just as fast—and loud—concussive—as the first three.

Steven doesn’t feel the sting. He’s sure his forearms should burn, they should throb and ache, but he’s not sure he can feel anything in his body. There’s only a loud buzzing, augmented by the ringing in his ears from the overeager excitement of the courtside spectators at seeing a blocked ball dug.

Biggs takes his lucky pass and sets it to Angel. The volley continues.

And Steven isn’t sure, but when he manages to get a glance of Jasper’s face, he thinks he can see her scowling.

Again.

* * *

Control.

Steven thinks about it. The word loops over and over with every loose spin of the ball between his palms. The night wind is chilly on his bare arms. The beach tide is quiet and calm at his back. He closes his eyes. This is the perfect stillness; the perfect place. No courtside eyes. No spectators eager to react to every success and failure. Just the cliffside. Just the sand. Just the water. And those things have known him for his entire life, just as he has known them. Here, he has nothing to fear.

_Ready._

Steven tosses the ball up. He gives himself a two-step head start. He jumps.

The ball hits his hand all wrong.

He knows the instant he makes contact that it’s flimsy. Errant. Wrong. The ball launches off to the side with too little power to have made it over the net if it had been straight.

Steven’s feet hit the sand a second after the ball does. A sigh catches high in his throat.

“Diamond.”

The noise Steven lets out is anything but dignified.

Jasper’s strides across the sand to the prone ball. Her hands are thick fists at her sides. When she lifts the ball from the sand, it’s as if she’s holding an apple.

“Haven’t I told you not to call me that?” 

“You think I’m _not_ going to call you something you hate?”

“And here I thought you were starting to come around.”

“The other quartzes call you Diamond.”

Steven barely has time to snatch the ball in front of his face before his nose gets broken. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”

“Why not?”

“ _You’re_ really asking _me_ why I don’t like being called ‘Diamond’?”

He can see in Jasper’s face that it isn’t a question of whether or not she’s been paying attention the past three years. She, who had insisted on calling him by his dead mother’s name a majority of that time. Somehow, for some reason, she’s asking genuinely.

Steven shakes his head and readies himself for another serve. No fancy approach. Just an overhead launch.

The net bends in the middle from the impact.

“You’re not getting it.”

Steven drags both hands down his face and groans. “Obviously.”

“Not the serve. The damn thing about the name.” 

Steven lifts his eyes to watch Jasper retrieve the ball again. This time, when she lobs it to him, it’s aimed at his chest. The force shoves the wind out of him.

“ _You’re_ telling _me_ that you’ve never thought about how millenia-old soldiers feel about finally being able to talk to—hell, even being on the same damn team for a stupid game—as one of their highest matriarchs? Being on the same level as the figurehead they fought a thousand-year-war for?”

Age-old defenses rise. Pink tinges the edges of his vision. “But I’m _not—_ ”

“—shut up. This part isn’t about you.”

Just as quickly as it had flared, the pink—the heat—the burn—the buzz—vanishes.

Steven clutches the ball to his chest.

Jasper rolls her eyes. She tosses out a hand. “Try again.”

“Uh…?”

“The _serve_.”

Embarrassment is hot on Steven’s cheeks. “Well, if you’re going to be my teacher, you could stand to be a little more clear!” But he does. He tries anyway.

The serve is wildly overpowered. Steven fears for a second the ball might careen into the cliffside and get damaged. But then Jasper is there, the ball safely between her hands. There is an unexpected, battle-hardened grace in her form as she lands back on the ground. Had she expected that one to be crazy?

Steven winces before Jasper can say a word. He bows his head. “Sorry. I—”

“They call you ‘Diamond’ because you’re a marvel, kid.”

Steven freezes. 

“You don’t get it because you’re twelve, but after a millennia of service and bent knees and dumb salutes and formalities, they don’t have to use any of that ‘my’ shit. They don’t have to treat you any differently than they do each other. That’s a privilege and novelty they’ve never had. They take pride in it. This…dumb new era and the rules you’ve set and how they make everyone equal.”

There’s something hard pressed against the curly nest on top of his head. When Steven peeks up, his vision is obscured by the curve of the volleyball Jasper holds above his brow. 

“I’m sixteen.”

“Shut up. Do you want us to take pride in you or not?”

Something floods Steven’s chest. It is warm. It tastes differently than hope.

Us.

“Yeah,” he rasps. 

Jasper lets go of the ball. Instantly, Steven’s hands are there to catch it.

“Then let’s get to work on those serves.”

* * *

Steven would be lying if he said it wasn’t a _little_ frustrating how, even when Lace sets the ball beautifully to him, Jasper and Zebra are right there, ready to block his hit. 

Every. Single. Time.

Their rounds of volley transform over a matter of seconds. After the initial serve, the first pass is calm. Easy. A lazy, round bounce of the ball from bump to set to spike. It is perfectly controlled. Measured.

The first spike sets a new tempo. A new desperation.

Ocean snaps the ball down. Immediately, Jasper is there. Rhodonite’s ruby takes the bump to Zebra. 

Steven has to dive into the sand to save the volley and point, but he manages it. The ball is up. Lace takes his rescue and tips it to the other side’s back. And there is barely time to get his feet under himself again before the next set falls for Jasper.

But he knows what he wants to do.

Steven propels himself towards the net. Plants his feet into the sand. He jumps up the same instant Jasper rises for her hit.

_Bam. Crack._

It’s a rapid succession of thunder that echoes against the cliffs. There’s a unanimous gasp at the brilliant stretch of crystallized pink in front of Steven’s hands over the net. The sun’s light gleams from its multi-faceted surface. The ball is forgotten in the sand at Jasper’s heel.

“ _Steven!_ ” Pearl shouts. Admonishes. There is a very strict rule about powers, the lack of them, and volleyball.

But by the cheers and “OOOOH’s” and roars of “ _That’s_ our Diamond!” from the courtside crowd, Steven doesn’t think there’s a single quartz who cares. Heck, he doesn’t even think _he_ cares. The shield dissipates, but his hands still buzz. It’s different than before, the pink glow of him. It’s good. Controlled. Adrenaline thrums thickly in his veins, fueling his heart. His hopes. That floody feeling from before.

Jasper’s shadow falls over him. She lifts up the net to meet his eyes straight on.

“Do that again,” she growls. Her voice is a challenge, the mean curve of her mouth pulled wide in a grin.

Steven smiles back.

* * *

The quartzes think Diamond and Jasper shouldn’t be allowed to be on the same side of the court. 

Ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Not entirely related, but I have this running theory about the upcoming SUF episodes "Little Graduation" and "Prickly Pair." Because dude, if Jasper takes on mentoring Steven to control his powers and we get a full 11-minute episode of them bickering to tie off our December episodes--I will go into the new year happy. 
> 
> Crewniverse, please let "Prickly Pair" be referring to Steven and Jasper. Please.


End file.
